


this smile is a loaded gun

by scarlett_starlett



Series: scarlett's spideypool bingo [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Wade Wilson, Pack Alpha!Aunt May, Peter has Soft Daddy Energy ok, Peter is a good Alpha, Promise it isn't as dark as it seems, Self-Mutilation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wade Wilson Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlett_starlett/pseuds/scarlett_starlett
Summary: Spideypool Bingo 2020: Pack AlphaSpider-Man didn’t have a pack.He didn’t need one. He didn’twantone.He told him that, once.Packhurts, and Wade was not inclined to disagree.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: scarlett's spideypool bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440940
Comments: 16
Kudos: 514





	this smile is a loaded gun

**Author's Note:**

> I took a more non-traditional route for A/B/O. Let me know if there's any confusion in the comments, just in case. It's my first real go at A/B/O and I had a lot of fun with it after I got over my initial hesitation. Thanks for reading and enjoy a lot of Wade Whump and Peter trying his best to be supportive <3! 
> 
> Special thanks to [Devral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devral/pseuds/Devral) for giving this a look over!

“I don’t believe you,” Spidey said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he hung upside down from a single thread of webbing in the dark alley near his apartment. He spun in a slow circle as they talked; a quirky habit of his, Wade had noticed. He did it when he was thinking up a strategy, too—Spidey would spin a web and hang upside down, not bothered if he swayed or spun in a slow circle while he thought. 

Wade always had the intrusive thought of spinning Spidey like a top when he did it. 

He was getting much better at managing his impulses, though.

That was also thanks to Spidey. 

“I did!” Wade lied, not looking at him. “I’m absolutely, 100% not lying!” 

“You said that last time.”

“Well, I mean it  _ this  _ time!”

“You said that last time, too!” Spidey accused, then his back turned to Wade as he spun in his slow circle. 

Wade stuck his tongue out at him.

“I saw that!”

“What!?” Wade gaped. “No, you didn’t! You aren’t even facing me!” 

“I know you well enough to know when you’re being a brat,” Spidey replied frankly when he was facing Wade again. He tensed his thigh muscles and he stopped spinning, resting very still as the white holes of his mask narrowed at Wade. 

Wade was too busy ignoring the impulse to touch Spidey’s thigh muscles to look properly admonished. 

“Wade. Just be honest with me—did you wash your suit yesterday like you told me you would? Yes or no. Pick one, and then we can talk about it.” 

Wade bit his bottom lip hard, his fingertips digging into his palm every time he flexed his hand. Okay, so—the short answer was no. Wade did  _ not _ wash his suit like he promised he would. He was going to, but then he sat down and couldn’t get up again. It was like once he sat down, all the energy drained out of him—he barely had the energy to grab the remote. He hadn’t even turned on the TV once he had. He just sat there in his recliner staring at a black screen and wishing he could function enough to do this  _ one _ thing.

It wasn’t like he had to go  _ out  _ to a laundromat. 

He had a washer/dryer combo in his apartment. 

He didn’t have an excuse—he just didn’t do it.

And he felt  _ horrible  _ about it so he had been hoping Spidey wouldn’t bring it up but he was, as usual, too thorough for that kind of laziness. 

Spidey was still patiently waiting for his answer. 

“…No,” Wade finally admitted, his shoulders slumping as he made himself smaller. He had never liked disappointing Spider-Man when they occasionally teamed-up; now, he liked it even less since he learned of the hero’s assignation—Alpha, Dominant. It didn’t help that Wade responded to him at a level that made him anxious if he thought about it too deeply.

It was never a question, even when Spider-Man first debuted ten years ago, that the spider-themed vigilante was an Alpha. It was only after a few years into his career that the tabloids began to speculate on his assignation—Submissive or Dominant? Wade remembered how celebrity magazines and daytime TV went back and forth on debating Spidey’s habits and mannerisms. They swung between Sub and Dom constantly and it quickly became a tangled mess. No one  _ really _ knew, since no one knew Spider-Man’s identity, and Spidey always kept them on their toes and threw red herrings whenever they came too close.

Wade had learned Spidey was a Dominant Alpha about a year ago, on a mission Spidey had requested his presence on because, well, Wade had  _ hella _ guns and couldn’t exactly die—especially when crashing through a floor-to-floor window with manic laughter and guns blazing.

It was Wade’s fault it went down the way it did. 

Wade had directly disobeyed Spidey when he said it would be too reckless to enter the complex immediately, much less through the window. Spidey had turned his back on Wade for  _ one second  _ and Wade had impulsively leapt onto the roof and rolled down until he grapple-hooked to the building and burst through the window. 

Spider-Man had been  _ so fucking mad.  _

Wade had never seen him so mad before and it had been even more of a shock since he came back to life (after being shot like 50 times while he swung in) to a furious Spider-Man. 

_ “ _ **_Not a word,_ ** _ ”  _ he’d Alpha commanded, pointing a rigid finger at Wade. Wade had immediately felt his throat close, like his muscles locked up as his mind whited out and he stayed very, very still. He was terrified, suddenly, thrown back to a time when Alpha commands by Dominants were all he knew.  _ “We’ll continue this when we get somewhere safe. You stay here until I give the go-ahead and  _ please _ listen to me this time. It’ll only take a sec,”  _ he’d said normally, tone tight but much less angry than before. 

Wade hadn’t said a word for  _ days  _ following that.

He’d listened and they had, despite Wade’s blunder, done what they needed to do. Apparently, Spidey had needed some important data from a laptop inside the complex and the data hadn’t been compromised despite the loud entrance, which was what had Spidey so keyed up. The data was crucial to a case he’d been building with a Detective in the NYPD against this particular mobster.

Once Spider-Man had guided them somewhere safe, Wade dutifully staying a few steps behind, the explosion of anger from before felt dreamed up. But the way he could barely swallow, the panicked racing of his heart, the nauseating feeling of having done something _wrong wrong wrong_ let Wade know that it _had_ happened and he had fucked up majorly and he was in so much trouble and not a single muscle in his body relaxed, even when Spidey laughed sheepishly and said it could’ve gone a lot smoother, but it was fun. 

_“I would have definitely liked it if you hadn’t, like, died because that sucked_ _majorly_ _but at least we got the laptop,”_ he’d patted the computer tucked under his arm brightly. _“And, ah, uh, yeah, sorry for blowing up on you like that. My bad. I’m usually better at controlling my anger but you, and the bullets, and, um—I’m sorry I yelled at you,”_ he’d apologized, sounding embarrassed but sincere. 

Wade remembered not looking at him in the eye, always keeping his head tilted sideways so his gaze rested on the pavement, never on him. It was basic policy at Weapon X when commanded.

Wade hated it. 

He hated being reminded of how Weapon X had broken parts of him.

He hadn’t said a word then, even when Spidey asked him a direct question about where to eat and went from annoyed to unsure to worried at his unusual silence. He should’ve answered the question—that was direct permission—but the muscles in his throat wouldn’t unlock and every time he tried, it felt like he was going to puke. 

That was also the day Spider-Man discovered Wade’s subgender and assignation—Omega, Submissive. 

It wasn’t Spider-Man the papers should’ve been gossiping about, it should’ve been  _ Deadpool _ —having been born as the meekest and arguably  _ weakest _ of all the genders and assignations. Omegas weren’t exactly rare, but generally assignations tended to be opposites: Omega, Dom; Alpha, Sub; Beta, Sub or Dom, etc. The assignations themselves felt contrived most of the time, and they only really served to distinguish certain Alpha’s who happened to have more biological pull (i.e. Alpha Commands), or produce an excess of pheromones, against certain vulnerable persons—be that Beta, Omega or other Alpha’s. 

Technically Omega, Sub  _ was _ rare and basically unheard of in their superhero profession—the cultural stigmas associated with it made it so no one would guess Wade could be a hero, much less an anti-hero mercenary whose kill count was high enough to put most mercs to absolute shame. He was loud, not stereotypically meek, but that was a perfect defense to keep himself  _ safe  _ because people stopped listening if you were loud _.  _ They left you alone if you were loud; they turned the other way if you were loud. 

No one ever suspected, especially after Wade made sure all records and staff—internal and associated—from Weapon X were scrubbed.

It was how Wade kept himself safe _. _

He knew he was vulnerable; he knew Weapon X had done something terrible to him, something that sprung up suddenly and unexpectedly if forced and something that Wade could only hide behind a gleeful grin and laugh for so long.

The only one who really knew his assignation had been his old Alpha Nathan, and he wasn’t on his timeline enough to do him harm by revealing it. 

In fact, Wade was depressingly sure Nate didn’t give enough of a shit to try. 

_ “Wade? Are you okay? Are you still hurt? _ ” and it hadn’t been until Wade curled into himself and lifted his arms to protect his head, still tilted away, body rigid and tense as his mind ran wild with openings and exits, that Spider-Man had realized what happened, what he’d said, and  _ how  _ he’d said it.

It was what made them so special in this world—that Alpha, Dominants could unexpectedly hijack vulnerable or unstable Omega Subs by just a simple change in tone. 

_ “Oh—no, Wade, I…,”  _ Wade remembered Spidey whispering, voice cracking at the end.  _ “…You’re not an Alpha, are you?” _

Wade couldn’t say anything. He had curled in smaller. 

He’d sounded so, _so_ regretful and horrified when he understood while Wade just wanted to be _normal;_ he wanted to be able to come back from the command like other Omegas could. He wanted to be like other Subs who scoffed at commands, but commands held power—more to emotionally or mentally compromised Omegas, worse to those who fell into a more Sub category. Wade was usually pretty good at resisting the urge to obey, of snapping back with more viciousness like all those Shakira songs he listened to while he made breakfast. 

But he trusted Spider-Man. 

(He never knew  _ how much  _ until that moment.)

It’d been a long time since someone close to him commanded him and he hadn’t been expecting it. Maybe if he had been expecting it, he’d have come back sooner than he did.

He’d ruined the night because of that.

That made things  _ worse.  _

He ruined everything again _._

Wade had bolted the instant Spidey said, low and thick, that he could leave. 

He’d hid in his bed for two days after that, at first scared and then humiliated. 

So much for overcoming commands. 

Spidey had thrown  _ one _ in the heat of the moment and he’d devolved like he was a pup in his parents’ fury. 

Spider-Man always apologized for that day—it depended on whether he was having a bad day or not, Wade guessed. He probably revisited all the times he fucked up a lot and couldn’t help apologizing and overdoing it as atonement; Wade did that, too. 

Things changed after that, but only a little. Wade was just aware that Spidey was extremely careful about how he spoke to him and he’d developed more patience for Wade now. He’d get mad and huff before, and he still did that, but now he always told Wade they’d talk again tomorrow or that he’d text him later tonight. He never left Wade wondering if this was the last time they’d ever talk because Wade had fucked up again and destroyed another friendship. 

Spidey’s Dominant assignation also let Wade know one very important thing:

Spidey didn’t need a pack—personal attachments,  _ family _ .

He was his own pack. 

Wade suspected the Avengers were a pack themselves by this point, headed under Captain America himself. Or maybe it was Tony Stark, or Bruce. He wasn’t sure. They were all Alpha’s, but Wade was never involved in their affairs, public much less private, to really know, and they never said anything to the media or others. 

But it was speculated that Spidey belonged to that pack, or the F4. Speculation leant towards the F4 and Wade had, too, until he learned of Spidey’s true assignation and then learned more about him since the  _ Incident _ , as Wade lovingly called it, brought them closer than before. 

But Wade did need a pack.

He  _ desperately _ needed a pack.

Everyone thrived in packs, and was in one in some shape or form, but Wade  _ needed  _ a pack to...stabilize, to use the others as a cue for his own emotional wavering. 

Wade didn’t have a pack. 

He hadn’t had one for a while. 

He used to have a pack—he’d been in many, actually, but either the Alpha’s in the packs died or he was gently pushed out of the pack for one reason or another. Pack rejection was awful in general, but it was  _ devastating _ for Wade.

The last time he’d been in a pack, a good pack, had been X-FORCE under Logan. 

The pack had fallen apart with member deaths and Scott’s intervention. Logan hadn’t been able to sustain it after Jean left him—he’d rejected them all, and it’d hit Wade the hardest.

The years that followed were dark and Wade still felt raw even now when he thought about his old packmates and the bond that’d thinly, but comfortingly, held them together. Wade couldn’t bear to see old packmates so he was careful about where his assignments took him. 

Once, he’d caught a glimpse of Colossus while on a stakeout in Illinois and it took everything in Wade not to have a mental collapse again—to not sink into a mania and go batshit. He had to abandon the stakeout and it cost him a good couple thousand, adding a ding to his reputation. Not that his reputation was anything to brag about. But he was a  _ good _ mercenary and he did take pride in his work. 

It was one of the few things he had going for him. 

“Do you need help washing your suit?” Spidey asked, bringing him back from his mulish thoughts. 

“…Maybe. Yeah.”

Spidey untangled himself from his webbing and dropped to the floor, letting the thin string fall away to the wind. 

“C’mon, Wade,” Spidey sighed, but it didn’t sound angry. “You stink—I can smell you all the way from that hotdog cart on 36 th . You need to take better care of yourself.” 

“Oh, come off it!” Wade huffed, turning heel and leading them to his building. “How could you even say such a thing? Everyone knows Rolf’s hotdogs are amazing and once you have one in your mouth, you can’t smell anything else.”

“The mouth isn’t connected to the nose like that...”

“How would  _ you  _ know!” 

Spidey huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know, my Master’s in biochemistry maybe? I took some classes meant for the med students for funsies.”

“Show off,” Wade grumbled as he opened the door to his apartment, nudging a pair of unicorn slippers out of the way. His apartment used to be a hoarder’s wet dream until Spidey helped him out of his trash rut. It was still a little cluttered but Wade actively tried not to hoard trash or plushies. Spidey had managed to convince him to let go of over 320 different unicorn plushies that were just piled everywhere in his home and had helped clean out the literal garbage that’d accumulated but Wade hadn’t been able to let go of. 

He threw out his trash the instant it became trash now and tried not to let his compulsive buying get  _ too _ out of hand. It also helped that Spidey dropped by frequently enough that Wade always remembered to be better and keep his home somewhat tidy—like it’d been before, when he was younger. He used to be neat, used to like to tuck in his sheets every day and shine his boots. 

He was getting there again.

Spidey helped… _ level  _ him in a way Nathan had tried to do but failed. Nathan had been too strict, too impatient with Wade’s executive dysfunction, and there was nothing wrong with that until it interfered with their relationship and Nathan grew tired of Wade’s… _ unwell behavior,  _ as he’d christened one evening when his daughter, Hope, dropped by for a visit. 

“You got a clean suit?” Spidey peeked into his kitchen, making the beeline for his fridge to take out the ever stocked vitaminwater he kept in there. Wade made sure to always keep it stocked for him. “Wade?” 

“Uhhhhh—!” Wade dug through his closet, digging deeper until he pulled out a…

Gray suit, like someone had dipped it in ashes. 

His old X-FORCE suit. 

He still had it. He forgot he kept it. 

“No,” Wade shoved the suit into his small trashcan in his bedroom with trembling hands. “No new suits! They all went ka-blewy weeks ago! I’ll just stay in this one and take a shower! I’ll be smellin’ like the inside of a middle school locker room in no time.”

“That’s not cleaning your suit, Wade, don’t be ridiculous—that’s  _ marinating  _ in the filth of your suit and there will be no marinating in filth while I’m around,” Spidey said, mock-serious as he took a sip of his vitaminwater. “Also—where do you get these from? You have like 25 more in the cabinet!”

“Costco.”

“Dammit,” Spidey sighed, glum. “Don’t have a card.”

“You can use mine if you want,” Wade offered immediately, perking up. 

Spidey grunted and then squinted at him, not one to be distracted so easily. “So? Suit?” 

“Ugh, why can’t I just showerrr with itttt?” He slumped against the wall childishly, feeling weird about being out of his suit. He felt tired lately and just— _ weird _ without his suit. Too exposed. And his other suits were ripped or damaged beyond repair so he only had this one until he commissioned more suits. “What if I just buy a new one and then throw this one out when it comes in?”

“Hm, you can do that except that’s a perfectly good suit you’d be throwing out and y’know how I feel about wastefulness,” Spidey responded mildly. “I’m on that Ecology Committee in the City for a reason, y’know? Even though I vaguely understand composting. Sort of. I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“Ughhh, why are you so poor?” Wade whined, grinning when Spidey threw him a look. “Just buy more money, Webs!” 

“God, I wish,” Spidey snorted, grinning anyway at Wade’s giggles. He crossed his arms again and Wade quieted, perking up a little at the gesture. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be out of the suit?” he asked, softly. He lowered his head even though he was half a foot smaller than Wade, encouraging. “It’s okay to not want to be out of the suit, but your suit is very dirty and you told me once it hurts your skin if you don’t get out of your suit or clean it for a while. Your skin doesn’t hurt?”

“Sort of...”

“Maybe you should clean your suit, hm? It’s going to snow later,” Spidey told him, wandering over to the window and peeking through the blinds. “Temperatures are expected to drop to the negatives. If any crime happens, it’ll be behind closed doors. Not really a good thing, in hindsight, but we’ll deal with that later. And if any major crime  _ does _ happen, I’ve got a police radio here,” he tapped the side of his mask, “so we’d know. Can’t do much freezing and smelly, can you?”

“I  _ guess _ ,” Wade grumbled, still not entirely convinced.

“You can change into your onesie and slippers and catch me up on what I’ve missed since Disney+ happened.” 

“A lot,” Wade mumbled, biting the edge of his gloves. The onesie promise perked him up. He did love his onesie…

“Mhm. And you can catch me up on it.”

Wade bit at his gloves for a few minutes before he nodded. 

“Good,” Spidey smiled, proud. Wade could tell—he could  _ feel it,  _ like a taut string inside of him had been plucked, and the vibrations made him feel soft and floaty. “Leave your suit in the hall by the bathroom door. I’ll put it in the wash for you.” 

“Okie dokie, but you CAN’T peek!” Wade shrieked and rushed down the hall before Spider-Man could reply. It took him a bit to find the strength to take off his suit but once he took off his belt, it became easier and easier until all the pieces were on the floor in a pile outside the bathroom door and Wade was warm in the shower. He stayed in the shower for a long time, drawing comfort from the hot water, feeling cozy and wanted and reluctant to leave it. But he couldn’t make Spidey wait too long. He’s never left before but one day he  _ could _ .

At that thought, Wade shut off the water and quickly dried and snuck into the large onesie Spidey had deposited in the place where he’d left his dirty suit. He’d had a unicorn onesie a long time ago that got blown up when some mercs nuked his old apartment. He loved that onesie but Spidey had gotten him this neat Star Wars themed one and the fluff felt nice against his damaged skin. It was also big so he felt protected and warm. He slipped on fuzzy socks and then reached for a large blanket off his bed after he peeked out the bathroom and found no one in the hall, just heard the faint sounds of the TV in the living room. Wade bunched the blanket under his chin to hide whatever part of his face may be visible even after he flipped the hood on his onesie and carefully walked in. 

Spidey was sprawled on the couch, downing another vitaminwater with a bowl of popcorn on his stomach. His mask was high up his nose and he’d taken off his gloves and laid them on the armrest of the couch. It looked a little goofy, the sight of a full-grown hero on his couch looking lazy and warm, but that taut string that always felt on the verge of snapping inside of him always loosened at such sights—felt less tight, almost limp, whenever Spidey looked so at home in his apartment. 

“Suit’s almost dry,” Spidey drawled, chugging the drink.

“How many of those have you had since you got here, you animal?” Wade shot back, quickly rushing to his loveseat and huddling in it. It was a two-seater which meant he fit perfectly. Wade made sure his legs were tucked up under him nicely and he was as nested as possible because he wasn’t moving even when Spidey eventually left. “You’re the only one keeping that company in business, Webs, it’s gross how much of that shit you drink. Why do you even like it? It’s just flavored water and it isn’t even that good. Buy Kool-Aid like the rest of us!”

“Hey! You’re the one who buys ‘em in the first place! Don’t pin this on me. And this stuff is amazing—Kool-Aid can’t compare,” Spidey said dreamily. “It’s not too sweet, it’s not too dry. It’s a perfect balance and I’d die for Acai Blueberry Pomegranate if it came down to it.”

“People would disagree.  _ I _ disagree.”

“Always a critic,” Spidey snorted as he threw the bottle perfectly into the recycling bin he’d put there some weeks ago. “Want some popcorn?”

“Nah,” Wade snuggled deeper into his thick blanket, turning to the TV and gasping in horror. “WHAT? YOU STARTED THE MANDALORIAN WITHOUT ME?” 

Spidey froze. “Uh. Yes?”

“NOOO! SPOILERS!”

“What?! I thought you already watched it! Frick—you always watch everything before me!” Spidey shouted, fumbling with the remote until he exited the app. “How have you  _ not _ watched this yet?! It’s been out for like, two months!”

“Well, maybe I just didn’t have any  _ time  _ lately!”

“Wade, you’ve been home this whole week! You’ve told me—in fact, I distinctly remember the 50 Baby Yoda memes you sent me yesterday! What the heck have you been doing all this time? Staring at walls?”

Wade puffed his cheeks defensively, feeling crowded, and he sank deeper in his blanket. “YEAH!” 

Spidey paused and Wade pushed edges of his blanket further up so they covered his face more. He wasn’t even able to see the TV anymore. He was literally just snuggled into his blankets now. Great. Now he wasn’t coming out even when he got sweaty. He wouldn’t be able to watch the Mandalorian and Spidey would totes spoil it because he couldn’t ever help himself, the jerk. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Spidey whispered, suddenly very close to him. Wade peeked out of his blankets, blue eyes meeting the concerned white holes of Spider-Man’s mask. Even though the mask was scrunched up, Wade could tell Spidey’s eyes were crinkled with his smile. He wondered what color his eyes were. “You’ve been acting a little weird lately...”

“Lately?!”

Spidey huffed a laugh. “Alright. More than usual. You wanna’ talk about it?”

“…No.”

“Okay,” he chewed his lip for a second, thinking. Wade waited. This felt nice. Spidey doted on him a lot and _it felt nice_. It was a reaction, of course, to being close to an Omega, even one as ugly and unstable as him. Wade’s suit was designed to block out his natural scent. No one would know unless they were close enough to him without his suit. But since Spidey found out, Wade ditched his suit more and more if only because he seemed to dote on Wade more when he wasn’t in it. It almost felt like a pack but Wade knew better.

Spider-Man didn’t have a pack.

He didn’t need one.

He didn’t  _ want _ one.

He told him that, once. 

Pack  _ hurts _ , and Wade was not inclined to disagree.

“Oh! I know!” Spidey beamed, straightening. “We can make cookies! Aunt May let me make some last month and she said I did everything right, I won’t mess these up! You still have that bag of chocolate chips I brought over last week, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t have eggs, though.”

“Eh, I can go pick some up right now. I could go for a pan or two of cookies—it’ll be great. You’ve got an even bigger sweet tooth than me so maybe this will perk you up,” he laughed, and his smile was beautiful and strong. 

Wade dropped his eyes after he nodded. 

Wade kept to himself a lot when he wasn’t called out to work, but Spidey always dropped in to check on him if he hadn’t heard from him in over a week. It’d become more frequent lately, it felt, but Wade had also been having lots of bad days lately. It happened. He didn’t have a pack, much less an Alpha, to settle him—the closest thing he had to any one of those was Spidey, but he would never ask for Spidey to settle him. That was too intimate, too close; Wade always got too attached and then it hurt when they rightfully backed away. It would’ve been weird to ask even if Spidey officially accepted him as pack, now that Wade thought about it; it was just something Wade wanted, something that helped him when his depression felt too overwhelming. 

Wade was tactile, so tactile. He liked to touch and be touched.

But Wade didn’t even know Spidey’s real name _. _

Being around him would have to be enough.

He’ll have a meltdown soon, he could feel it.

Until then, he’d hide in his blankets and pretend this was enough. 

* * *

His meltdown happened on a mission in  _ fucking France.  _

He’d been engaged in combat, his katana striking off this fancy French dude’s assault rifle. Never bring a knife to a gun fight unless their aim was shit, which it was, so Wade had been winning—he’d been winning and laughing and jumping around and gaining enough ground to taunt the dumb assassin they’d hired to keep his mark safe. Hah. Right. Unbeknownst to this dude, Wade had already  _ gotten  _ his mark—he got him when he’d come back from his indoor gym, drinking a whole water bottle and then passing out a few minutes later. No one was expecting him, so he’d laid there for a good while before someone noticed him passed out snoring. Wade had snuck in and stolen the information he needed hours ago so really this fight was just because Wade was bored but he also felt itchy and restless, like he had to  _ do  _ something or else he’d crack if he stayed still for too long.

Turned out he didn’t need to stand still to crack, anyway. 

The assassin Alpha commanded because he was pissed that Deadpool was gaining ground, pissed that Deadpool of all people was embarrassing him, pissed at Deadpool in general.

Deadpool didn’t  _ care.  _

But the Alpha command short-circuited something in his brain.

Wade doesn’t really remember what happened after that. 

He remembered coming back to gore on his hands and suit. He remembered a giant headache blooming behind his eyes, his mouth dry. He’d torn the guy to pieces, literally. He had chunks of flesh in his fists; like he’d reached into the man’s stomach and ripped it out. 

By the time he managed to let go of the flesh, others had arrived.

Wade whited out again at their screaming. 

He came back to more gore, this time from himself. But everyone else was gone, too.

He’d mutilated them all, but also himself. 

_ Spidey is going to be mad—no, furious. He’s going to be so furious. He’s gonna yell at me,  _ Wade panicked, shaking.  _ He’s gonna yell at me.  _ It seemed to be the only thing he could process. He couldn’t process the gore, the pain. Just that he’d done something  _ bad  _ and he was going to be in huge trouble because SHIELD would report this and everyone would know.

Deadpool lost it again—went into a dangerous  _ Alpha rage,  _ they always reported. To be expected, they’d report, Deadpool has no known pack or attachments: no Omega, no Beta, no pack,  _ no one.  _ SHIELD would draw out patterns and predictions for his next meltdown so they could prepare for it and then they’d shelve the folder to be forgotten until the next time Deadpool made the news. 

They wouldn’t prosecute him, Wade was sure. They were all bad people and SHIELD played the ‘disappointed and scolding’ role really well for an organization that didn’t give a shit if all the villains just killed each other. But Spider-Man would be mad—no, worse, he’d be  _ disappointed.  _

He said the only way he would hang out with him was if Wade promised not to kill anymore.

Only clean jobs, inside jobs.

No murder.

Well, now he murdered a whole group of assassins.

He counted 4 just nearby.

He was missing an arm and his suit was riddled with bullet holes. Part of his jaw was torn off, too. Part of his head. That was why things were harder to process, maybe. His cranium was cracked open. Who knew what else was damaged; not Wade, he was just figuring out what the fuck color was.

They were good, Wade thought suddenly.

He was better. 

He wanted tacos.

No, ice cream.

Cookies. 

Spidey made the  _ best _ comfort cookies.

_ Spidey was going to leave him. _

Wade whited out again for a second but came back to his arm slightly more healed than before and his head clearer than when he first came to his senses. This wasn’t a mental white out, then, he’d just blacked out. There were no bodies, just the same bodies as before, and morning had come. 

Wade managed to crawl to his knees and then stand up.

He shoved his mask up to bite at his gloves, gagging at the taste but unable to stop his nervous habit. 

Spidey was going to be so mad.

_ Spidey’s gonna’ leave,  _ Wade realized, feeling tears burn his eyes. He whimpered then choked out a cry. He sucked everything back in, then let it out in a scream. It felt like too much. Spidey wasn’t his Alpha but Wade desperately wanted him to be, but he couldn’t have it, so he would’ve settled for pack but  _ he couldn’t have that either.  _ His dependence wasn’t anything, it was just Wade _.  _ Wade who needed it, who needed that structure. Not Spidey. __

Spidey was an Alpha and he was Dominant—he tended to just  _ do  _ things his way and Wade liked following orders, liked pleasing him, liked the praise and warmth and light touches of approval, liked giving into that part of him that society tended to look down on.

That was why he made a good soldier.

But it always came to an end.

Wade  _ always _ fucked something up. 

Wade had started full out biting his glove while he rushed off the Eiffel Tower. He was sure he’d make the news. People had seen him; they’d know. Then the news would know. Then Spidey would know. 

He was already gone, Wade realized as a sob rose up in his throat followed by a hysterical laugh. 

He’d ruined it. It was over.

Again. 

No more movie nights, no more late-night cookies, no more take-out bingeing, no more late-night patrols, no more soft praises, no more laughter, no more quips and banter, no more barely-there touches, no more—

Wade doesn’t remember how he made it to the dump, but he did. He was in the garbage pile.

Where he belonged.

It smelled  _ really _ bad.

Wade buried himself deeper, starfished and staring at the blue sky. Blood soaked the trash bags, soaked into his suit, made his skin flare up something painful and made his headache worse.

It was where he belonged.

* * *

He was there a couple of days, he thinks. 

Or maybe less.

Maybe just hours.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t really care.

He just knows he’s starving but he didn’t dare to move from the dump. He’d torn up his glove with his chewing; he’d moved onto his wrist guard. His healing factor was slow because of lack of food and water so his missing arm was growing back slowly and kept getting infected so it was taking longer. The sun was hot, but no one bothered him here, and the one garbage dump worker who’d spotted him quickly ran off when he saw just who it was sitting there on a pile of garbage, bloody and massive. 

It was odd, how big he was in comparison to the average Omega. 

Everyone always thought he’d be an Alpha with how tall and broad he grew up to be—then he turned out to be Omega, a Submissive at that, and people still tended to think that it was all an elaborate joke. He just didn’t look like how he  _ should;  _ he just didn’t  _ act  _ like how he should. His body was all wrong, all hard muscle and sharp angles, and some days he truly hated his body—hated that if he’d been smaller, softer,  _ prettier,  _ maybe he’d have a chance at an Alpha who’d like him enough to  _ keep him— _

“Wade?”

He twitched and grinded his teeth on his wrist guard hard enough to hurt his gums. 

“Wade? Hey—are you….”

It tasted horrible. Like rot.

“We have to go, you can’t stay here,” the person said softly, and a hand gently touched his elbow and nudged it. When he didn’t respond, Spidey nudged it a little more forcibly until he wasn’t gnawing on his wrist guard. Something wet slid down his chin. It dripped onto his thighs, mixing in with the dirt and dried blood. It looked scarlet and sticky against the Kevlar of his suit. 

He hadn’t been biting his wrist guard.

Wade started crying. 

_ Why am I so fucked up what the fuck is wrong with me what is wrong with me— _

“Oh, no! Shh, don’t cry, you’re okay. It’s okay. Wade, okay, let me see what happened, let me see so I can make it better,” Spidey coaxed, voice still warm and soft. There was an edge there but it wasn’t enough to set Wade off so he let him grab his elbow and maneuver him closer, letting him see the damage. “Oh,  _ Wade _ ,” Spidey whispered, and it sounded  _ so sad.  _ “Your arm looks terrible. Look at your wrist. C’mon, come with me so we can make it better. Please? Come with me? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. If the worker hadn’t tipped the police off, I would have never found you…yeah, that’s it. Let’s go home. Where it’s safe,” Spidey promised and managed to get him to slide down the pile. He grabbed him tightly when Wade slid too fast so he didn’t roll onto the floor and then helped him up. 

His suit didn’t feel loose.

He hadn’t lost weight, so he hadn’t been there long.

It felt like he’d been sitting in that dump for so long though. 

“I’ll put it back,” Spidey promised when he lifted his mask up to his forehead and Wade flinched away violently. “I  _ promise _ to put it back. I just want to wipe your face,” and he did, getting his gloves all dirty with blood and tears. Wade hiccupped and turned his face away, but Spidey gently brought it back up every time, wiping and wiping despite the big, crocodile tears that slid down his ruined cheeks. Spidey took a measured breath and smiled, sadly, as he tugged his mask back down. 

It was shredded; Wade felt like it wasn’t really covering his face. 

“Hey, Cap—no, I haven’t found him yet,” Spidey suddenly said, a hand pressed against his ear. A comm, Wade realized. Spidey’s hand gripped the lower part of Wade’s neck, a comforting and grounding weight. Wade was still crying quietly, but the emotion no longer felt like it would suffocate him. “He isn’t at the dump. I’ll keep looking and keep you updated.” 

“Why’d you lie?” Wade croaked out when Spidey did nothing more than walk him towards a black SUV, likely borrowed by the Avengers if Spidey was in contact with them.

“Because I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he answered, easily, like that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever done in Wade’s  _ miserable _ fucking life. “The plane ride back is gonna’ suck—Cap let me borrow a jet, so at least there won’t be anyone else, but it’ll be a long ride back to New York. Sorry. I couldn’t get the helicarrier because Fury is using it today,” Spidey apologized, and Wade became aware that he probably had  _ no idea  _ just how kind he was being; how no one had ever been this kind to Wade post-military. 

He cried harder and buried his face in his knees inside the SUV and stayed that way the entire trip back to New York. 

* * *

Peter was a Dominant—theoretically, he was one of the few who did not need pack bonds to live a balanced lifestyle, and he’d never been forthcoming with information about himself...

The thing was, he  _ was  _ in a pack. 

He hated it, but only because it meant he was hyper-protective of it because of his ‘secret’ hero lifestyle. Well, he was overprotective in general—he'd been told he was overbearing growing up and he tried really hard to give space where space was due. 

Peter thinks he really only kept it a secret for a few months at best, off-loading his guilt at hiding things from his Alpha by calling it a “I’m protecting the Alpha by not telling her all the dangerously crazy shit I do on the regular.” 

Because once his Aunt found out, boy, had Peter been in  _ so much fucking trouble.  _

Nowadays, his Aunt May and him have a really good “we’ll only  _ hint  _ at the fact that you lied to you Alpha, your foster mom, the last member of your tiny pack, when needed” rule that’s, so far, helped Peter not drop into a puddle of embarrassment and his Aunt May  _ totally  _ leverages that. 

Like right now.

“Peter, do you really think I haven’t noticed all the blankets that have gone missing lately? You’re terrible at this, kid, I could hear you coming a block away,” May, his Alpha, quietly called from her curled-up form on the couch, raising a brow as she looked behind the couch to catch Peter balling up  _ another _ blanket he’d been trying to sneak out under his arm guiltily. She sighed and twisted so she could look at him properly, frowning. “Just where are you taking all of these blankets, anyway? I can’t keep replacing your linen—Threshold blankets at Target are expensive _ ,  _ y’know? You keep this up and I’ll just get ‘em from the corner bodega—I know a lady who sells those giant animal blankets there for cheap!” 

“I know, Aunt May—um, I’ll replace them, promise, but I, uh…I need all of them right now. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Peter?” May sat up straighter. He didn’t sound right—his voice was rigid and high, like how he got when something was wrong and he didn’t want to tell her. She felt it in their bond. He was struggling. It was a different type of struggle than usual, something she knew he didn’t know how to handle. “Is something wrong?”

“Do you—!” He started, then stopped. Then said quickly, “Do you know how long an Omega-Sub remains in a drop without…a pack or Alpha?” 

“…They must have a pack to mediate the effects of a drop if they do not have an Alpha. Generally, most Omega-Subs have some type of support system—friends, coworkers, someone they like even a little that could help call them out of it,” May said slowly, thinning her lips when Peter’s jaw twitched, the panic bright in his hazel eyes. “But in the case that they do not have a support system or Alpha, it is no trouble to introduce them to artificial Alpha pheromone to calm them down until we can figure out a more permanent solution. The local clinic would carry that,” and May noticed the way his lip curled up in a snarl, a flash of distaste that had May sighing deeply already. Oh, jeez, here they went again, May thought bemusedly. “Peter. Is this why you’ve been taking blankets from here? Have you been giving them to this Omega?”

“NO.”

May stared at him. 

Peter immediately caved. “I just—he likes soft things and I don’t…I mean, I only sleep with a comforter, so I didn’t want to bring that because it isn’t soft. I know these don’t smell like me, but they might…help. I think. Hopefully?”

May squinted at him.

Peter groaned loudly, burying his face in the blanket. “I don’t know what I’m doing! I just want to help him but I can’t!” he muffled out loudly, sounding more aggrieved than May had heard him in a while. 

“What will help is if he has a pack member around, or someone close to him—a friend, preferably an Alpha. Someone he feels safe with,” May gave him a meaningful look. Peter clutched the blanket tighter in his hands. 

“It’s bad,” Peter blurted, swallowing through the panic he was barely containing. “He hasn’t stopped crying since I found him. He—he doesn’t seem present, no matter what I do. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t sleep. He just—he cries and doesn’t respond. He has other mental health issues but that doesn’t mean…” Peter shook his head, pressing his lips together. “I don’t know how to help him out of this. He can’t go to a hospital,” Peter hastily added. “It’s complicated. Sorry. I know this doesn’t make much sense.”

Much more complicated, then. But May had an idea of what was happening, even if Peter didn’t quite yet. “He needs to be brought out of his headspace slowly—it’s severe, but he can be brought out without any more trauma. He’s just in shock, that’s all. He’s too far down. Objects of comfort, Alpha pheromone, physical touch—we greatly encourage cuddling to our patients who drop too deep and can’t be brought out by other means,” she cheerfully said, and Peter’s cheeks reddened. 

May chuckled lightly. “I know you’ve always been resistant to expanding our pack, our family. But…it seems like this boy matters to you quite a lot, and there’s a reason we don’t allow strange Alpha’s to bring dropped Omegas out when we encounter them. It can be  _ very  _ intimate, Peter. Be careful if you’re not ready for what that will bring—not in your friend, but in  _ you _ specifically. You’re a different Alpha than most, like I am,” May carefully said. “If you don’t feel like you can do this, I can always call Bianca and she can give you a few vials of Alpha—!” 

“ _ No fake Alpha smell! _ ” Peter snapped, then apologized immediately at her amused look. “Okay, I know that look. I know what you’re getting at, stop looking at me like that.” 

“Okay, then,” She turned back to the TV to give Peter a moment. May didn’t really have to think about it—she knew Peter had been hiding something, had been bonding with someone. It was apparent in his tone, his cheerfulness, the way he always packed two things of something instead of one. The way he’d suddenly tense, like he remembered something, then ask to leave. He didn’t even know it—Peter never led a pack of his own, he was in hers, he hadn’t recognized the bond he’d already forged with this other person. Peter always wore his heart on his sleeve, the silly boy. “I’ll buy some more blankets. What color does he like?”

“…Red.”

“Red it is,” May promised. “There’s leftover chocolate mousse in the fridge. You should bring that to him as well, it will make him feel better. Bring his blood pressure up. Take whatever else you need if you feel like it. He may not have an appetite now, but once he comes out of the drop, he will. I have a liter of Pedialyte in the pantry. Oh, and don’t leave him alone _ , _ ” she glanced at him and he looked horrified. “Relax, Pete, just try not to leave him alone for a long period of time. It can stress out Subs when they’re so deep in a drop.”

“Right. Food. Water. Don’t leave alone. Um. Okay. I got this.”

“And....bring him around, sometime,” May said, carefully. The shuffling stopped. “If he’s important to you, he’s important to me, too.” 

“...Okay, Aunt May.”

It was quiet only for a second longer before Peter quickly made his way to the kitchen and May smiled warmly. 

She was so happy Peter had become close enough to someone to make them pack _ ,  _ family _.  _

* * *

There was a hand stroking his side. 

Wade buried his face deeper in his soft blanket, not wanting the touch to stop but also wanting to be alone. But he knew if he was alone, he’d just cry again because then he’d feel too lonely so Wade whined and pushed the blanket so it covered his head. 

“Don’t do that,” a soft voice gently said, tugging the blanket over his bald head. The same hand that was stroking his head slid up to massage his scalp and Wade settled at the touch, the tension in his shoulders loosening the longer those fingers massaged behind his ears and the back of his neck. He knew who this was—Spidey. Spidey was here again. He hadn’t left him last time. He came back. “You’re the only person I know who really loves head scratches,” he said, amused.

“…m’miss my hair,” Wade rasped out depressingly. 

“Oh.”

“…M’sorry,” Wade felt tears burn his eyes and the voice was suddenly more panicked, the fingers on his scalp pressing in but not uncomfortably. He felt another hand touch his side and squeeze and it felt  _ really good  _ so Wade’s tears had already been drying up even before Spidey had apologized.

“No, no, you’re okay! It’s okay, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just…I’m so sorry, Wade,” he said regretfully, but sincerely. “I’m sorry I can’t make that better right now. But I can keep doing this, and if you let me, you can sleep on my lap. You said you liked that one time on a roof, do you remember?” 

Wade nodded hesitantly. 

“Okay. I can move you if you want?”

He nodded again, sure now, but tensed and immediately buried his hands in the blanket and pressed it against his face to hide when Spidey lifted his torso up and settled him on his lap. Wade had the haphazard thought to just nuzzle his nose into Spidey’s crotch because he’d definitely get away with it right now before those sad, distant feelings returned and he just let his cheekbone rest against Spidey’s thigh absently—he wanted to be peppy and cheerful, like how most knew him, but it was difficult right now. 

Spidey had managed to pull him out of his headspace just a few hours ago and Wade had pushed away from him and curled up into a ball on his own in the corner of the couch once he was aware of his faculties again. Then he regretted it, because Spidey had been cuddling him hard _ ,  _ his legs had been wrapped around Wade’s and the affectionate way his fingers had run up and down his back had been  _ amazing,  _ but Wade was weird when he came out of his head—he always felt attacked, ready to bolt, and scared, and he generally wanted to be alone even though that was also terrible as well. 

Spidey hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t gotten mad at Wade for pushing away.

He’d gone to the kitchen and brought him back some chocolate monstrosity that Wade had taken a big bite out of before hiding again. But that seemed to please Spidey—he’d coaxed another two bites out of him and then made him drink some disgusting electrolyte drink that Wade had pitched a fit at. Spidey was a lot more patient than he gave himself credit for, since he did manage to convince Wade to drink half a liter of it.

But only because he figured out Wade would do just about anything with enough praise. 

_ I’m so pathetic,  _ Wade groaned. Then thought about it some more.  _ Nah. I’d lick the ground if Spidey asked. Not that he will, but if he did things would be interesting. _

Wade had been deep in thought about just how far he’d go if Spidey asked and then gave him an approving pat on his head when Spidey shifted downward. Wade froze, every muscle in his body tight and ready to bolt. 

“Sorry,” Spidey whispered, rubbing his back. “My butt is numb. I’m just gonna’ lay down. Promise I won’t move you again.” 

Wade let Spidey maneuver him so he was resting on top of him and his hands went back to gently massaging him. It took another minute, but Wade relaxed again and sunk into the chest he was now resting on. Spidey’s heart was strong and even under his ear and Wade had just started to doze when he felt something vibrate by his side. It was gone in the next moment, with Spidey hissing into the phone that he “was sort of busy right now” and “you guys can handle it, right? I mean, Tony is always saying how much I don’t have to be there!” and there was some more arguing there until Wade rolled off Spidey and squeezed between him and the back of the couch. He buried his face in the back of the couch, nudging Spidey until he’d hip-checked him off the couch. 

“Wait—Wade?”

“You should go,” Wade yawned and brought his legs up, reaching for the soft blanket Spidey had brought him and pulling it over himself until he was nested warmly and safely. “I’ll be here.” 

“No, I can…I can stay. I don’t have to go?” 

“You like being a good guy,” Wade made a vague motion to the window. “You’d be all weird if you didn’t go. I’ll be here,” he said unhelpfully. “I don’t want to move,” he added, because he really didn’t. He’d miss Spidey fiercely once he left but Wade could deal with it. At least the blanket sort of smelled like him—

“...My Alpha told me not to leave you alone,” he blurted out, then groaned when Wade peeked out of his blanket, wide-eyed. “I mean, ugh, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that! Oh my god, that came out wrong, I promise I'm not twelve.”

“You have an  _ Alpha?! _ ” Wade wheezed, giddy. “Like....like you’re in a  _ pack _ ? I thought you didn’t have one! You never acted like you did!”

“I do? I never told you—oh-kay, I never told you, y’know what? That isn’t surprising because I don’t think I’ve ever actually  _ told  _ anyone about this because I don’t want her in danger—not that you’d put her in danger! Just, the idea of it. Wigs me out. Of course it’d wig me out, she’s my  _ Alpha,  _ but she’s also, like, my  _ mom _ , wait—!” 

“I get it, you’re super Alpha-y about your Alpha slash mom.” 

Spidey threw him a dry look. “Thanks, Wade.”

“I’m always right. You're super Alpha-y about a lot of things. Like you get weirdly aggressive when I get too close to your vitaminwater.”

“What?! No, I don’t!”

“You wouldn’t notice because you’re not an Omega but my special princess senses tell me you’d definitely punch me in the dick if I got too close to your precious watered-down fruit juice.”

“Okay, _ first of all, _ vitaminwater isn’t fruit juice nor is it watered-down!  _ Second of all _ —stop looking so smug. Wade!” Spidey groaned, a grin tugging his lips as Wade sunk down in his blankets and sniggered. “Okay. Fine. I might be super Alpha-y about certain things. If I get on your nerves, just let me know, alright? My Aunt always does. Apparently, I also hoard the good pens in the house.” 

“I knew you were a nerd, too.”

“I want to do this right,” he said suddenly, still knelt by the couch. “I think... I might be more attached to you than I thought I was.”

Wade was glad the blanket was pushed up over his mouth—it was hanging open right now, his eyes wide as he watched Spidey reach up to the mask pulled over his nose, then pulled it off in a single move. Hazel eyes looked back at him, nervous but determined. 

“I don’t like working with others because I always get so attached to them. Aunt May said that wasn’t a bad thing, but it is when you do the things I do. The things we do. But I think I’ve always been a little too attached to you—even when you were annoying me,” he smiled, and his eyes crinkled warmly when he did that. Wade was fascinated. “I didn’t like it when you  _ weren’t  _ annoying me. It felt wrong, off, and I’d go look for you to make it right. And then I just kept looking for you. I never thought about it too much—but seeing you sink into such a deep drop scared me a lot. I'd never seen you so...quiet. I don’t want that to ever happen again.” 

“I dunno’—I can shut up for a few minutes with enough incentive,” Wade weakly quipped, not wanting to get his hopes up but also  _ holy shit Spider-Man had unmasked himself for him and was dropping all sorts of backstory.  _

“You don’t have to say anything right now but, um, I think I might have...pack-bonded with you,” he flushed, swallowing but powering through. “I get if you don’t...want to be in my pack, or even involved with me like that, like, I didn’t mean to and I honestly didn’t realize it—!

“No!” Wade shouted, sitting up immediately. “No! I want it—I want to be in your pack! Please?” 

Spidey blinked rapidly then snorted, a relieved but also amused smile brightening his eyes. “You don’t have to ask, Wade, of course you’re in my pack. You always have the choice to leave it, though. I know you haven’t had the best experience before with packs, but I can promise we’d never leave you or ask you to,” he beamed. “Parkers stick it out to the end for family. It's the right thing to do—ow, Wade, the table—!” he laughed when Wade crawled off the couch and jumped at him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs with his arms. Wade couldn’t match him in strength but he was still really strong when he wanted to be. 

“NO TAKEBACKSIES!” Wade shrieked, squeezing harder.

“Can’t breathe,” he wheezed, chuckling when Wade immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go. “Aunt May will want to meet you. She's the best! You'll love her. She's the best person I know, hands down. I'm sure she’ll love you, too—she can’t cook for the life in her, though, so when you show up for supper, just pretend you like it and then I can order take out when she gives it up,” he grinned widely. 

“I’d eat shit if she served it to me, Spidey, and still tell her it was great!

“Okay, how about no, we had that talk about boundaries, and also you can call me by my name?” 

“I would if I knew it.”

“...Oh my god I basically asked you to be in my  _ pack  _ and I never told you MY NAME, DON’T TELL AUNT MAY!” Spidey shrieked, red-faced, aghast, and Wade couldn’t help but to burst out laughing as Spidey groaned and fell back on the floor, bringing Wade down with him, burying his face in his shoulder and muffling out: “please don’t tell Aunt May how badly I messed this up she’ll never let me live it down and I already have, like,  _ volumes  _ of stuff I’ve done that she’ll never let me live down.” 

“If you promise to make me cookies every day.”

“That’s a little excessive, isn’t it?”

“Fine, every week.”

“Eh, I can deal with that,” he smiled, and pulled back enough to direct warm eyes into Wade’s wide, excited ones. “Well, my name is Peter. Peter Parker. Otherwise known as your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.” 

“Trademark.”

“I wish.”

“You should. You'd finally not be poor if you did.”

“That requires my identity to be revealed to multi-billion-dollar corporations and you know—!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re in the anti-capitalist committee at the City,  _ we get it _ , you’re super involved in politics in this universe! Woo fucking hoo!” 

“Wow, rude. Being an active member of your community’s City Council is extremely important and I’ll shut up now, I can see your eyes glazing over and your last three brain cells making a run for it,” Peter snorted. Wade giggled. “C’mon, get off me, you dork, I gotta’ go help Iron Man with some villain of the week shenanigans.”

“Ugh, how come you always talk like an old person? Who even says shenanigans in real life? Outside of John Mulaney,” Wade whined and was about to roll over when Peter's phone buzzed with a text. 

Peter peered over at it and winced. “Nevermind. Crisis handled. Oops.”

“Guess they didn’t need you after all.”

“Guess not,” Peter sighed, but settled back in on the floor with Wade on his chest. 

“...Do you really mean it when you said your Alpha doesn’t...she’d like me?”

“Of course, Wade,” Peter assured, rubbing his neck and gently squeezing it. Wade stretched into it, feeling euphoric but also nervous. He didn’t want to mess this up; he had to protect this, had to be on his best, best behavior. He had to make this work— _ he wanted it so badly.  _ “Don’t overthink it,” he softly reminded. “Just be yourself.”

“Myself is NC-17 with the possibility of gore and/or dismemberment at any given time.”

“Tone it down to R and we’ll have a deal.”

“Fine. Only minor blood and sexual themes.” 

Peter snorted. “Aunt May is gonna’ wipe the floor with you if you try.”

“What, no, not with her! Although if that’s a proposition, I can try—!”

“No hitting on my aunt. Seriously. Gross. She’s basically my mom. Besides, I thought you didn’t like women this year?”

“I can always make an exception if she bears any resemblance to any of the Golden Girls...or Blake Lively.”

“No to all of them.”

“Then I’m all yours, Petey!” Wade fake-swooned and Peter laughed, squeezing tightly, reassuringly, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy at all, but knowing they’d always work through things. 

With Aunt May there to mediate, they’d definitely get there in the end.


End file.
